


storm

by onbeinganangel



Series: kinkuary 2021 [14]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Amortentia, Anal Sex, HP Kinkuary 2021, Idiots in Love, Lack of Communication, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, honestly there's no excuse... they're just v dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:54:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29511402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onbeinganangel/pseuds/onbeinganangel
Summary: “Pay attention, you knobhead. No. We brew Amortentia. Fall in love with each other for a few hours. Kiss, I don’t know.” He’s trying to sound casual. Like kissing is something you do with your flatmates.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Series: kinkuary 2021 [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2137662
Comments: 32
Kudos: 154
Collections: HP Kinkuary 2021





	storm

**Author's Note:**

> I failed Kinkuary. Legitimately, 100% failed. You wanted kink? Have some feelings.
> 
> And now you're here about to read something you think may have something to do with amortentia but it's actually just idiots to lovers, terrible communication and one “you fucking wanker (affectionate),” sorry not sorry.
> 
> The kink is love, pals. 
> 
> Thank you for reading through this, [Uphorie](https://uphorie.tumblr.com), even after I hit you with 2.7k after promising a max of 1k.

Sirius doesn’t know why he suggests it, but he’s drunk and the day has been happier than most days are recently. Remus looks at him like he actually matters, like he could actually love him and he finds himself saying, “It would be nice to have something like that, uh? True love.”

Remus is pulling on his tie and unbuttoning his waistcoat. James had insisted on the same suit for all groomsmen. All four Marauders in matching clothes again — and just like with their uniforms, they still found ways to make them their own. And, of course, even in matching suits, Remus had to look better than everyone else. It was unfair, really.

Remus stops at the words _“true love”_ and looks at him. Sirius is precariously perched on the arm of the sofa, pulling on the laces of his uncomfortable dress shoes.

“True love, Pads?” He chuckles. “You need to sleep, mate.”

“You can’t tell me you don’t want it, Moony,” Sirius pushes, he’s not sure why.

“I mean, yeah,” Remus gives in and heads down the corridor to the bathroom. The tap turns on but the door doesn’t close. They’re comfortable around each other. Too comfortable for Sirius’ aching heart.

“What if we did it?”

“Get married!?” Remus screeches through what Sirius imagines is a mouthful of toothpaste.

“Pay attention, you knobhead. No. We brew Amortentia. Fall in love with each other for a few hours. Kiss, I don’t know.” He’s trying to sound casual. Like kissing is something you do with your flatmates. “Shag, maybe. If you want? We just… experience love for a limited time and then go back to normal.”

He waits, starts taking his waistcoat off and then his shirt while he does. Remus is silent. Sirius is waiting for him to come out of the bathroom and ask, _“What the fuck, Sirius?”_ or _“I’m not that desperate.”_ He worries his lips as he waits, tie, waistcoat and shirt discarded on top of his shoes. 

Remus has lost his shirt too when he comes back from the bathroom. He’s just there, bare feet, dress trousers, sweaty hair, looking at Sirius with an expression Sirius can’t quite explain.

For a second, he thinks he may get punched.

“Alright,” Remus finally says.

And that’s that.

Five months after James and Lily’s wedding, Sirius comes home to find two small unlabelled potion vials on the kitchen counter — between the bread bin and the kettle, looking as if they’ve always been there. As if they belong. As if they’re meant to be there.

“Moony?” He calls into the house.

“Yeah?”

“What’s with the potions?” He asks. He knows better than to open unlabelled vials and smell them. For all he knows, this could be poison or something as nefarious as that. They’re not fucking around with Order missions these days. 

Remus’ bedroom door creaks on its hinges as hemakes his way out, in a baggy grey t-shirt and faded denims. Remus sits at the kitchen table and grabs a chocolate bonbon from the bowl they keep there, specifically for him.

“It’s what we spoke about after Lily and James’ wedding.”

It takes Sirius a second. He’d been a little tipsy then, a little lost. A little heartbroken and filled to the brim with joy for James. But he remembers.

“Remus…” He starts.

“We don’t have to. I just thought… well, it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

In for a knut, in for a Galleon.

“I’m still game, if you are.”

_Yes, of course_ , Sirius thinks, _let’s do that._ Taking love potions with your best mate so you feel less lonely and maybe get a shag out of it sounds like a great idea. A totally platonic thing to do, too.

Remus is an idiot, Sirius realises. Literally as soon as Remus says, “we could wait until next week, it’s Valentine’s day,” Sirius wants to punch him in his stupid beautiful mouth.

Sirius agrees, though. It was his bloody idea in the first place.

* * *

The first thing Remus realises when he uncorks the vial is that the potion smells familiar. Too familiar. Not pot, and chocolate and tea. No. Amortentia smells of old battered leather, cheap Muggle hair products and a pint of bitter.

He knew there was a chance he was in love with Sirius. If he’s being honest, a rather _large_ chance. But he was not ready to admit that — and he was definitely not ready to have it clearly backed with facts.

Remus looks at Sirius and finds an anxious expression that he assumes matches his own. They’ve discussed it. No regrets. They both just want to feel love. Fuck knows if they’ll have a chance before this war takes them both, or Merlin forbid — just one of them. At least they’ve got a chance, like this. That’s what he’d said out loud. That’s what he’d said before he realised his Amortentia smelled of Sirius.

“What if we fuck?” He’d asked. “Does it matter? Friends fuck. You know James and I have. And Marlene,” Sirius had replied. Because this is just like that. Remus hopes he remembers that, after.

They count to three, eyes never leaving each other’s and throw the potion back all at once. 

The love that was apparently true in the first place bubbles up to the front of his brain, his heart, his hands, his whole body. It’s like his whole being is consumed by the desperate need to tell Sirius—

“Merlin, I love you,” Sirius says, from across the room and dissolves into giggles. God, isn’t he gorgeous when he laughs.

He tries to control himself, tries to stop the words from coming, but he stumbles forward towards Sirius and blurts out, “I love you too.”

His brain is running too fast and Remus feels like he’s spinning. He realises, with the very small part of his brain that is still capable of logical thought, how dangerous this potion really is. How strong this obsession feels, the compulsion to reach out and touch Sirius, to tell him just how absolutely fucking stunning he is. No wonder the stuff is highly regulated, extremely hard to get and illegal to brew yourself.

* * *

Remus’ body is hot to the touch. Sirius had known this. It’s something to do with the wolf. But god, he hadn’t known just how hot. He had thought about it plenty, but he hadn't known his hands would feel like this. He hadn’t known just how much he’d love peeling Remus’ jumper off and running his hands up his stomach, down his sides, over his chest, or using his fingers to trace every single one of those scars he was so familiar with or to play with the hair on Remus’ chest.

“Fuck.” 

“Yes, please,” he says, consequences be damned. He’s only having this once and he will make the most of it.

“Bedroom?” Remus asks, but Sirius pushes him back against the sofa with a quiet, “here.” It makes sense. If either of them end up regretting it, their bedrooms — their safe spaces — won’t be plagued with memories. 

And it makes sense, because it’s where everything happens. The living room is where Sirius waits for Remus to get back from work, where Remus is sitting when Sirius comes back from a mission. It’s where Sirius puts a record on before he makes breakfast in the morning and it’s where Remus pours them glasses of wine before he curls up in his armchair like a cat and cracks a book open. The living room is where Sirius smashed half the crockery when they got word Regulus had died, and where Remus cried himself to exhaustion when they passed the newest Werewolf Registration Bill the day after a full moon. It’s where Sirius cleans up the blood and the dirt and casts healing spells over Remus like he’s never known anything different. It’s where Remus tucks Sirius up in a blanket when he falls asleep to the sound of the Wireless.

If they’re going ahead with this truly stupid idea Sirius knows will haunt him for the rest of his life, they’re doing it here. 

Remus kisses like he does everything else. With the unbridled force of a sudden rainstorm. And Sirius lets himself be moved about and pushed and pulled and undressed, all the while kissing Remus back, ignoring the feeling in his heart that makes him want to cry at how deliciously soft Remus’ lips are.

* * *

Sirius is loud. He cries, and whines, and whimpers and groans. Sirius lets out a high-pitched squeak when Remus first touches his cock, and Remus can’t really blame him because he almost comes just from touching Sirius. Just from seeing it, from being allowed to touch him like this. 

Remus kisses him, and he wants to be swallowed by that kiss, he wants to drown in it, he wants to get lost in this moment where he is naked over a naked Sirius. 

This is the quickest anything has ever felt, the desperation is so much, the need so strong, he feels like he’d die if he wasn’t touching Sirius.

“Please.” “What?” “I want—“ “What?” “Can I fuck you?”

A beat of silence. Two.

“God, I love you. Whatever you want, Padfoot. Whatever you want.”

And that’s how Remus ends up on his knees, bent over the arm of the sofa.

The feeling in his hole as overwhelming as the feeling in his heart. Pressure, burning, pleasure, love. 

Sirius fucks like a lover. With kissing and nipping and whispered “I love you”s, with more lube than Remus considers strictly necessary and long, beautiful, dexterous fingers thrusting into his open mouth at the same pace they do his arse.

Sirius fucks like a lover. With a gentle grip and a fierce thrust, a soft bite and a firm stroke. 

Remus doesn’t last. It’s too much, all at once. Sirius strokes his cock as he fucks him, the other hand on Remus’ shoulder for leverage. Remus can’t do much but support himself over the sofa and grunt every time Sirius’ hits his prostate dead-on. Sirius wanks him through his orgasm until he’s too sensitive and shivers at the attention. 

He feels _good._ His body is singing at the pleasure, pliant and comfortable in that post-orgasm haze. Sirius keeps fucking him — slower but harder. Each thrust making Remus slide forward the tiniest bit.

He urges Sirius on, meets his thrusts half way and it’s not long until Sirius is pulling out and hot come splatters over Remus’ arse and the small of his back. He looks back over his shoulder and watches in awe with a pang of disappointment. He should have at least made an effort to taste Sirius while they were under the effects of the potion. 

Clarity hits him with that thought and he realises, as Sirius pulls him into a kiss, that the Amortentia didn’t last nearly as long as it should have.

* * *

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Sirius repeats with every kiss, growing more and more aware that he won’t get to do this ever again. He scrambles for his wand, wedged between the sofa cushions and throws a half-arsed Scourgify at Remus, so he can turn him around and kiss him less awkwardly. 

But Remus looks at him when they’re facing each other again and Sirius repeats, relishing in being able to say it out loud without consequences, “I love you”. Remus looks at him then — open, raw, unguarded — and his eyes go very wide and very scared.

And Sirius realises that the potion’s effects are gone. That he’s saying “I love you” because he feels it, because he’s been waiting to say it for four fucking years, because he’s been whispering it into casual lover’s mouths so he doesn’t come home and tell Moony, because he’s been saying it to Peter and James and Remus in the form of “aw, I love you, lads” so he doesn’t come home and blurt it out when Moony’s in the kitchen making tea or in the bathroom shaving with the door open or when he’s curled up in his armchair with a book.

And now he’s gone and fucked it all up.

“Shit,” he whispers and pulls away, standing up and rummaging through the discarded clothes to find his underwear. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Sirius,” Remus starts and Sirius feels sick, because Remus knows. Remus knows.

“Sirius, listen,” Remus tries again.

“Don’t worry about it, Moony,” he says dismissively. “That was fun, right? What we wanted? A love like James and Lily’s, for a little while.”

“Padfoot,” Remus says. Just that. Just his name, again.

“It’s fine. You had a good time, right?” Sirius says, and he doesn’t know what he’s saying, why he’s saying it, he just wishes he hadn’t fucked this up so extraordinarily. He grabs his t-shirt, steps back further, closer to the window, but Remus follows him.

“Sirius, please,” he says, and grabs his wrist. 

“I’m sorry,” Sirius says, finally, feeling sick to his stomach. “I didn’t mean to ruin it.”

“How long?” Remus asks, shakily.

Fuck.

Sirius shakes his head.

“How long have you wanted to say that for?” Remus asks.

_Merlin. What a thing to ask._

“Fifth or sixth year, I think,” he says, finally. 

The room is so quiet, so different from just five minutes ago, that Sirius is worried the whole building can hear his heart beating.

Remus looks at him for what feels like a lifetime, and then, inexplicably, laughs.

He laughs and slumps into the armchair by the window, covers his face with his hands.

And then, even more surprisingly, he says, rather wetly, “You fucking wanker.”

_Well, that’s fair,_ Sirius thinks.

“You’re telling me you were here, spouting some bullshit about a love like Lily and James, and we could have had a love like… a love like ours, this whole time?”

Sirius’ mouth feels full of sand, his feet are weighed down as if he’s wearing lead shoes and isn’t half naked, barefoot in front of his best mate, after they’ve just fucked. And Remus… Remus isn’t making any sense at all.

“Sirius,” he says, and approaches Sirius, slowly, as if he’s not bare arsed in the middle of their front room. “Sirius, you stupid fucking mutt. I love you.”

“Stop.”

“You’re not paying attention, Sirius. You’re never paying attention. I mean it. I love you.”

“Stop,” Sirius says again. “Stop messing with me, it’s not funny.”

“Oh, fuck you, Sirius,” Remus says, pulls him closer and kisses him.

It’s nothing like the earlier kisses, like the fervent, toe-curling, desperate, hungry Amortentia-induced snogging. This is slow, careful, tentative. Sirius wants to push Remus away, asking to stop, again. But he kisses back, instead, body responding to Remus’ advances.

When they part, Remus looks at him with a serious, sincere expression. Sirius opens his mouth only to be shushed. 

“Padfoot. I love you,” Remus says. “Do you understand me?”

It feels almost like a stunner to the chest, like that bloody spell James was obsessed with during Third Year that would make whatever body part it hit spasm and freeze on a continuous loop.

“You?” He asks, because that’s all he can come up with.

“Me? Did I spend a whole month’s paycheck on an illegal substance apparently neither of us actually needed? Yes, Sirius, it would seem I did,” Remus says, with an eye-roll.

“Oh. How long?”

“Long enough. We can talk about it later,” Remus says and kisses him again, one hand around the back of Sirius’ neck and the other touching Sirius’ stomach under his t-shirt.

Remus is hard again, pressing against Sirius’ hip and Sirius sighs into his mouth at the feeling. His cock makes a feeble but ultimately failed attempt at reacting appropriately and when they pull back for air he says, “You’re gonna have to give me some time. Not all of us have that werewolf stamina, Moony.”

Remus laughs. “Take this off,” he says, and helps Sirius pull his t-shirt off.

“Let’s go to my bedroom. We have years and years of not touching to make up for.”

“And by touching you mean fucking?” Sirius asks, and bites the inside of his cheek, hoping he’s not saying the wrong thing.

“And kissing. And just… touching, in general.”

“Yeah, let’s do that,” he says, and lets Moony pull him into his bedroom.

**Author's Note:**

> for a more hyperactive and extremely chatty version of me, come say hi [on tumblr](https://onbeinganangel.tumblr.com)


End file.
